by Debra Dixon
“So why call me?”
“Because the police didn’t feel right.”
“Didn’t feel right?” Jessica echoed, bewildered.
“I can’t explain it.” Iris’s expression pleaded with her to understand. “It was just wrong, so I hung up and called you.”
Jessica huffed out a long breath and dragged her hair behind her shoulders. “So why didn’t you tell me you called the police first?”
“I didn’t call them first.”
Needles of fear pricked the back of Jessica’s neck as she imagined Iris making phone call after phone call until she found someone who felt just right. Careful to keep the apprehension out of her voice, Jessica asked, “Who did you call first?”
THREE
While Sully waited he let the piece of silk drop to the coffee table and examined the tarot deck that was still in his hand. The cards were oversize, and the back design was a yellow and brown canvas with a disturbing and very realistic eye—as if someone was looking out of the cards at him. The pictorial sides of the cards were dark, muted paintings. Many of the cards depicted people or ideas such as Justice or Temperance. Each time he looked at the pictures he saw something new, objects hidden in the background of the paintings like owls or peacock feathers or rippling water. Hell if he knew what any of it meant, though.
Sully shuffled the cards absently until Jessica and Iris came into the room. His qualms about the case, which had subsided, came roaring back as he looked at their faces. He expected Iris to be a little scared considering her prank; he expected Jessica to look embarrassed or even angry with the girl. But neither of them should have been frightened to the point of becoming pale and solemn.
What the hell had gone on out in the hall?
When Iris’s eyes widened at the sight of him shuffling the deck, he stopped and held it out to her. “Awfully big cards for such small hands. Are they yours?”
“They were my mother’s.” Iris took them and clutched them to her chest protectively. As she spoke Sully noticed the mood ring on her index finger go black. “She died a long time ago, so I guess they’re mine now.”
Sometimes Sully hated his job. Right now was one of those times. “Sit down, Iris.”
Jessica gave Iris a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder and stood beside her as the girl took a seat in one of the striped chairs. With her back ramrod straight Iris looked very much like a condemned woman waiting for last rites. Sully looked up, his gaze marking Jessica. Slowly her head came up, her eyes soft and gentle for a moment before she shifted gears to mother tigress. Seconds passed before Sully realized he hadn’t begun. Clearing his throat and crossing his arms, he asked the obvious question.
“Did you call the police last night? Tell us you were Madame Evangeline and that your father was going to be kidnapped?”
Her eyes dropped. “Yes, sir.”
“Did you have a reason to be worried about your father?”
Iris looked up at Jessica, but he couldn’t tell if it was for support or coaching. “No.”
“Why did you call, Iris?” he pressed, moving to hunker down beside her so she had to look at him and not Jessica. “Were you mad at your dad? Did you do this for attention?”
“Of course not! I’m not a baby!” Some of the attitude was back, and that made him feel less the bad guy. She rubbed her fingers across the cards. “I get these feelings sometimes. Momma had them too. Everyone says we’re alike that way. Yesterday I had one of those feelings.”
“Let me get this straight,” Sully said trying to control his exasperation. “You called the police because of a feeling?”
Jessica spoke up for the first time, her eyes sending the message to back off. “Yes, a feeling, Sully. It’s a seven-letter word for hunch. You know what one of those is, don’t you?”
“Yeah.” Sully shifted his full attention upward. He had no intention of backing off. “Isn’t that when I think someone is lying to me and I can’t prove it?”
Misunderstanding the byplay between the adults, Iris objected, “But I’m not lying! It was one of my feelings. I did a reading with the cards to see what it was about, but it didn’t help this time. Lincoln and Rosa wouldn’t listen. Well, Lincoln listened, and then he laughed. Rosa crossed herself like she does every time I get one of my premonitions. That’s when I decided I had to do something myself before anything bad happened to my dad.”
Those purple eyes of hers were suspiciously shiny. Sully wondered if Phil Munro was worthy of her tears. God knew his own father had never been worthy of a passing thought much less real concern. Iris’s concern worried him, nagged at him.
“Iris, did you overhear something that scared you? Maybe someone threatening your dad? An upsetting phone call?”
She looked up at Jessica again and then said, “No, sir.”
“Iris, look at me, not Miss Daniels,” he ordered sharply. “Are you sure?”
“Yes, sir. It was just a feeling.”
Sully wasn’t satisfied, but he let the issue drop for the moment. “Why didn’t you tell the police who you really were?”
“I got scared that I was doing the wrong thing. Or that Daddy would be mad. And the policeman’s voice was … yuck. Just full of negative energy. I told him I was Madame Evangeline and hung up as quick as I could.”
Negative energy? he echoed silently. She had actually shivered when she said it. Despite the number of times she had looked to Jessica for reassurance, this was not a rehearsed act. Little Iris was a bona fide New Age flake in training. Sully stood up and paced a few steps, wondering why he was surprised the day was ending exactly as it had begun—in the company of flakes.
Unfortunately, he had that tickle at the back of his neck again—the one that signaled trouble. Something wasn’t right, but he couldn’t get a handle on it. Maybe his instincts just needed more time to adjust to a life away from the badlands and bad guys. He was so used to being lied to that he assumed the worst. Even of children.
“Mr. Kincaid, I didn’t mean to make trouble.”
“She didn’t,” Jessica instantly seconded. “Can’t we just forget this ever happened?”
At her question he stopped pacing. It was tempting, if for no other reason than he could walk away and the lady would owe him one. Turning to face them, he was struck by the contrasts between the two. Jessica was as dark as Iris was fair. One was an abundantly sexy woman; the other was barely past skinned knees and teddy bears. Most disturbing of all was his impression that the aunt was as guilty as the girl was innocent.
Iris was certainly a far cry from his usual brand of bad guy. She was shorter, younger, and unarmed. But no matter how sincere her actions might have been, what she did was wrong. He had to impress upon her the seriousness of involving the police without facts. It was his job to cut short the career of Madame Evangeline and put the fear of God in Iris.
So, why did he feel like an ogre? Because only monsters frightened children. Sully knew all about monsters. He’d lived with one for sixteen years and hunted them for almost as long. And then there was the nagging feeling that more was going on here than met the eye.
Finally making a decision, he spoke to Jessica, “Iris made a false report to the police. This isn’t something we normally ignore.”
Jessica straightened as she realized what he was trying to convey without tipping Iris. She had barely mouthed a relieved thank-you before he focused on the girl.
As Jessica watched him, she wondered if he knew how uncomfortable he looked. Obviously reading the riot act to children wasn’t standard procedure for him. Jessica imagined taking a bullet was higher on the list of things he’d rather be doing.
“Iris, do you know what it means to cry wolf?” he asked sharply.
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Because crying wolf is what you did with that stunt of yours. I’ve wasted an entire day questioning people who had better things to do than talk to me about a hoax.”
“I-I’m sorry.”
“Next time you call the po
lice, we might not believe you.”
“I didn’t think about that.”
“Well, you think about it, and while you’re thinking, think about the money you cost this city. Money that your daddy may be asked to pay.”
“Couldn’t I pay you back out of my allowance instead? I don’t mind. I have a lot saved up.”
Sully looked nonplussed for a moment, like he’d had all the air knocked out of him. Jessica knew just how he felt. Iris had managed to knock the wind out of her sails a few times. She was an unusual child, an odd blend of naïveté and wisdom. She had a way of looking at a person that cut right to the soul. So did Sully, but he did more than look at her. He talked to her; he touched her; he got to her.
Taking a minute to recover from Iris’s earnest offer of repayment, Sully crossed his arms before he said, “Even if you do repay the city from your allowance, your father’s going to have to be told. This is a serious matter.”
“Yes, sir, I understand,” Iris said, and slumped in her chair.
“Instead of taking you downtown, I’m going to leave you in the custody of Miss Daniels.” When Iris sighed in relief and smiled, he added, “Next time you go to court.”
The grin faded. “Yes, sir.”
“And you’re grounded,” Jessica added firmly, hoping it was the right reaction to Sully’s lecture. He didn’t seem impressed.
“You.” He pointed at her and inclined his head toward the foyer. “I’ve got a few more things to say.”
“Of course you do,” she mumbled quietly as she followed him.
Looking behind her, Jessica saw Iris slip out of the chair and begin laying out cards on the coffee table. Before she could ask what it was all about, Sully took her arm and marshaled her past her luggage and out the door into the hot summer night.
Although a breeze came off the ocean, it did little more than push the heat around. Not that Sully needed any help pushing heat or her around at the moment. He was the cop, and obviously used to being in control.
He didn’t stop until they’d walked a few paces to the edge of the gently curved drive, which looped around the front yard of the estate and back to the gate. When he let go of her arm, he seemed to do it in slow motion. Like the earlier handshake, his touch lingered a second longer than necessary. The pads of his fingers left warm spots behind.
“Fair warning, Jessie. I’m going to be keeping my eye on the two of you.”
“My name is Jessica,” she told him, barely resisting the urge to rub her arm where his fingers had rested. “And not to seem ungrateful for the attention of a big, strong man, but what on earth for? There’s nothing wrong. I grounded her. Case closed.”
“Call it a hunch. You know, a five-letter word for feeling.”
“Oh, come on, Sully,” she cajoled, unable to keep the edge out of her voice and horrified that he wanted to keep digging. “This is nothing but a little girl’s overactive imagination!”
“Then you shouldn’t mind my dropping in from time to time until I’m satisfied on that point.”
“Well, that depends on how often you’ll be droppin’ in,” she snapped and began to pull her windblown hair away from her face. “I’m afraid it might be a lot since you don’t strike me as a man who’s easily satisfied. Ow!”
A strand of hair had gotten caught in the clasp of her watch. She sucked in another sharp breath and halted, arm half-lowered, not wanting to rip out any more hair and feeling incredibly stupid. Without waiting for an invitation, Sully reached to untangle the strand and then tucked it behind her ear. His fingers trailed gently around the shell of her ear, and once again she felt trapped in the odd never-never land of sensation that his touch created. The contact was too brief to be sensual and yet lasted too long to be ignored. Anticipation swirled through her, only to die as he dropped his hand away.
“I’m not easily satisfied, but not to worry, Jessica. You haven’t got anything to hide, have you?”
Plenty, Jessica thought. The prospect of trying to hide it from Sully made her uneasy. As usual he stood too close. Or maybe the night was too small to swallow him up the way it would have a lesser man. By design or happenstance, he’d picked one of the few spots not completely illuminated by floodlights. Jessica didn’t think Sullivan Kincaid did much of anything by accident. He struck her as the deliberate type.
Holding her arms out from her sides and in her best Texas belle drawl, she tried to deflect the question with teasing. “Now what would I have to hide?”
“Darlin’, everybody’s got something to hide.”
“Except you, of course,” she noted sourly, letting her hands fall to her hips.
“No, I imagine I have more to hide than most.”
Sully wanted the words back as soon as they left his mouth. He hadn’t meant to be honest, and certainly not with this woman, one he hardly knew and suspected of … something. The lighting was too uncertain to trust the surprising flicker of understanding in her eyes at his confession. Then the cool, familiar mask descended, and she laughed.
“Do women actually fall for that line?”
“Line?”
“When you pretend to be the dark, wounded man who suffers in private torment while looking for a soul mate who can understand him?”
“Oh that line. Yeah, it works most of the time,” he lied. In point of fact, Sully didn’t know whether it worked or not. He’d never tried it. “And for future reference, just what kind of line would you have fallen for?”
“Oh, I don’t fall.” Her answer was quick, her tone final.
“Then I guess my only hope is to trip you up.”
At his throwaway quip, he thought he saw fear steal into her expression, and that pulse of suspicion began to throb in his gut again. The lady was scared of him. The only question was why? What was she hiding?
She recovered quickly, pursing her lips as she considered him. She toyed with the neckline of her silk shirt and finally met his gaze. She could have given the night lessons on sultry.
“Trip me up? You can try, but the only thing you’re going to put to bed around here is this ridiculous case. So you drop by anytime you feel like it, Sully. I look forward to seeing you fail.”
He wasn’t fooled by her sudden willingness to play sexpot; she obviously intended to offer herself as a challenge to take his mind off of Phil Munro. To make the game interesting he gave her some advice. “Instead of looking forward, you better be looking behind you. I don’t generally play by the rules.”
“What a coincidence. Neither do I. Good night, Detective.”
“Aww … we’re suddenly back to ‘detective.’ How’d that happen? We were doing so well.”
“My good sense returned,” she explained as she walked away.
He couldn’t help but laugh. “Good night, Miss Daniels. You have Munro call me.”
“As soon as I hear from him.”
“The sooner the better,” he yelled at her retreating back.
She slipped in the door without a backward glance. Left in the dark Sully realized the sway of that woman’s walk was going to haunt his thoughts for the better part of the night. Just as she intended. She was dark and mysterious—an enigma. No, a chameleon would be a better description—cool one minute, shy the next, and a flirt challenging him the moment after that. With no rhyme or reason to explain the transitions.
Inconsistency intrigued him as much as coincidence irritated him. And, at the moment, she was the only intriguing game on an island that thrived on peace and quiet and dull routine.
Sully shook his head and started the long walk down the drive to his car. He stopped only long enough to look through the window of her rental car. As he hoped, her customer info packet had been tossed carelessly on the dashboard.
Checking to make sure no one watched, Sully leaned over the windshield until he could read the upside-down company name printed in bold logo-type letters on the folder. Good. A nice national company with rules and lots of forms filled out in triplicate.
; The rental agency ought to have enough information to point him in the right direction. He’d have one of his old buddies in Houston pay them a visit first thing in the morning. By tomorrow afternoon he’d have a head start on tripping up Miss Daniels. He tugged his tie loose and headed for his car.
A tiny internal voice, one he rarely listened to, warned him that Jessica stirred something inside him that was better left untouched, unexplored. The other voice, the one he always listened to, told him it was too late to worry about that now.
The game was afoot.
As rapidly as she could, Iris laid out a spread from the cards shuffled by the detective. The man hadn’t agreed to be the subject of a reading. He probably didn’t center and focus before he shuffled, which could mean a reading that was psychically all over the place. But a muddled reading was better than no reading at all.
Especially now that she had the feeling she needed both Jessica and Kincaid to find her dad. When they were in a room together, it was like one flow of energy instead of two. They were connected somehow. She knew that much; she could feel it.
Iris’s eyes widened as the cards fell. When the last one was placed, she set the deck aside and began to study them—looking for patterns and the flow of his story. Exhaling slowly, Iris realized Jessica wasn’t going to like this at all.
She was already angry about the phone calls. Of course Iris figured that Jessica would get over being angry, so it didn’t bother her too much. The sadness in her eyes and soul did bother her; that wouldn’t go away so easily. When she’d slipped her hand into Jessica’s, emptiness and regret had come through loud and clear. It almost felt like Jessica wasn’t whole.
Iris wrapped her fingers around the harmony ball that hung on a heavy silver chain from her neck. The motion caused the faint chiming sounds that always gave her comfort. Briefly she wondered if she should give the necklace to Jessica.
At that moment, the door opened and closed with a whoosh of negative energy. Maybe not, Iris decided. She needed it herself right now.
After Jessica’d had enough time to walk the distance from the foyer to the coffee table, Iris announced, “We got ourselves a problem.”
